


Darkest Blue to the Red Dawn

by Lagerstatte



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Blood, Hiding Medical Issues, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lagerstatte/pseuds/Lagerstatte
Summary: His own injury was small, insignificant – never mind that Noct's was also – and they only had one potion left. It never even occurred to Ignis to take the potion for himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the kinkmeme prompt: https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=1736136#cmt1736136
> 
> Not beta read, but open to any concrit. Thank you for reading!

It was an Arachne – or at least, they were fighting an Arachne when something crept up behind him. It got him in the side, a single puncture just below his ribs, before Ignis turned and stabbed it. Two neat blows to the centre of the body, nearly invisible in the darkness, and it shuddered off into the undergrowth to die.

Ignis stopped, taking a second to press his hand against the injury. Barely bleeding, not particularly painful. The hole in his shirt could be stitched up easily enough, though it’d never look quite the same. Never mind. They were all starting to look a little shabby after so many days on the road. Ignis turned and looked for Noct, returning to the fray to back him up.

After the fight – a short one; it had only been an Arachne, after all – they regrouped. Prompto and Noct high-fived. Gladio laughed and clapped Noct on the back hard enough to make him stagger. Ignis smiled, a little thinly, but it wasn’t as if anyone could really tell in the stark torchlight.

‘Good job, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘though I’d prefer it if we continue our celebrations at the haven.’

‘He’s right,’ Gladio said. ‘Come on, you lot, let’s get moving before something even uglier finds us.’

It wasn’t far to the haven, thankfully. Gladio lead and Ignis brought up the rear. ‘Is everyone alright?’ he asked as they trudged through the undergrowth. They would have said if there were something serious but it was always worth asking. He could see Prompto limping, very slightly. And during the battle he’d noticed Noct favouring his right hand.

Noct grunted. ‘Got a bit of an electrical burn on my hand. Not bad, though. Nothing a potion can’t fix.’

The haven came into view, the Regalia parked next to it, and Prompto let out a whoop before answering. ‘Busted my knee,’ he said, a little carelessly. ‘Dude, those tree roots are dangerous.’

Neither injuries were really worth a potion, and they only had one potion left. Ignis knew that, had known it since they’d used up all the others in a rather disastrous dungeon two days ago, but went through the motions of checking anyway.

The wound in his side was small, no more than the diameter of a pencil, and not very deep either. As Gladio started to set up camp Ignis insisted on sitting Noct and Prompto down so he could examine their injuries more closely. They only had one potion but tomorrow morning they’d be heading back to Hammerhead to stock up. The journey was short and the roads safe, so one of them might as well use it and save themselves an uncomfortable trip.

Prompto’s knee was bruised and swollen but not sprained, so the potion went to Noct, whose burns were minor but still more painful looking than he seemed willing to admit, and at risk of getting infected. Ignis carefully didn’t mention his own injury, and in the dark no one could see the small amount of blood on his black shirt. He knew that either way Noct would end up with the potion, but this way cut the debate considerably shorter, which in itself was a relief. Now they were safe he found he was tired, aching all over, and just wanted to be done with cooking, clean up his wound somewhere private, and go to bed.

Dinner was daggerquill rice, to pacify Prompto, who was mock-sulking over the potion, and because they had peppers that needed using up. Somehow, irritatingly, he managed to get distracted for the exact wrong moment and overdo the daggerquill, letting it dry out on the grill. No one said anything; it was rather saddening, Ignis thought as he washed up and watched Gladio have a go at strong-arming Prompto out of his pouting, that it was almost definitely because no one had realised and not because they were being polite. Good food was wasted on them. Oh well, never mind. They got something reasonably healthy in them and he’d have to be satisfied with that. And if no one noticed when he cooked to a sub-par level then his pride at least was left intact.

‘Hey.’ Noct, coming up from behind him, almost made Ignis startle enough to drop the saucepan he was washing. ‘D’you need any help?’

‘I’m almost done, but thank you.’ Ignis managed a faint smile. If Noct was offering to help with the dishes then he must be feeling guilty about getting the potion over Prompto, regardless of how little Prompto cared. A wash of fondness came over Ignis and his smile, however small, became genuine. ‘How about you finish setting up the tent? It seems Prompto’s feeling well enough to be distracting Gladio, and I for one would like somewhere to sleep tonight.’ Gladio had already put the thing together so Noct only had to sort out the rain cover. Which was good, because Ignis wasn’t sure Noct knew the first steps in how to assemble the tent, despite how long they’d all been using it for. And he didn’t think it was going to rain that night.

They both looked over to where Prompto was kneeling on Gladio’s shoulders, trying to take a photo of something in a tree next to the haven. Gladio, deciding it was taking too long, deliberately wobbled, and Prompto grabbed onto his head to avoid falling off. They both started shouting and flailing about.

Noctis snorted in amusement, but Ignis caught him flexing his right hand, rubbing it against the fabric of his trousers. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I can do that.’

That night Ignis lay in his sleeping bag, listening to the others fall asleep around him and failing to find any rest himself. His injury, now washed, disinfected and neatly covered in a square of gauze, was more painful by far than he felt it warranted. Ignis touched it with his fingertips, just gently, and hissed as pain shot up his side. That was definitely not good. Nor was the fact that it had already bled through the gauze and onto the top he was sleeping in. Ignis fumbled around above his head for one of his shirts, folding it up and using the sleeves to knot it around his waist with the bulk of it pressed over the gauze. That should be enough, and he was too worn out to bother with more. And the fact that it was bleeding so much in the first place?

Never mind. It was probably just deeper than he’d previously thought, or irritated by the antiseptic. And regardless of the cause there was nothing he could do about it now. He’d just have to wait until they got their hands on those potions.

Ignis woke the next morning with a mouth full of blood. Blood ran from his nose, too, and only sheer force of will got him out of the tent before he spat, coughing and wiping at his face with the back of one hand. His shirt, which he undid from around his waist, had become almost entirely wet with blood, still red and sticky and fresh. The gauze was completely soaked, oozing more blood even as Ignis inspected it, a sinking feeling in his gut. The flesh around the wound felt hard, was extensively bruised, and close to agonisingly painful.

It was dawn, just. Ignis sat down quickly as he realised how shaky his legs were, holding the soggy mess of the shirt to his side as hard as he could stomach. Poison, then. They didn’t have any antidotes, and how could he have got so lax in stocking their supplies? What if it’d been Noctis? Ignis closed his eyes and allowed for a moment to curse himself. Then he got up and rinsed his mouth out, washing his face and side as best he could. He made up a glass with sugar and salt, too; the surest way to make blood loss far more serious than necessary was dehydration, and even though just the thought of drinking it set his stomach on edge, the alternative was worse.

His dirty clothes went in the laundry, which no one but himself ever bothered with. He dressed the wound in abundant fresh gauze, bound as tight as he could with tape wrapped around his waist. After swallowing down the nausea that bubbled up with the pain, and checking to make sure it wasn’t bleeding through, he got dressed. Then he sat down and ran through the options.

There wasn’t much to be done with regards to wound care. If they were days away from possible curatives and the bleeding didn’t slow, stitching or cauterisation might help, but neither were worth it in this instance. Which left his options being either telling the others about it, or keeping quiet.

Inside the tent Gladio started to snore. Telling everyone now would only make them worry, and worry wouldn’t get them to the needed supplies any quicker. It was embarrassing – it’d make him seem less capable of looking after himself, let alone everyone else. And it would make Noct feel more guilty than he already did.

Pain and some bleeding weren’t going to do much more than make him uncomfortable, so long as the bleeding didn’t get any worse. If they were going to be spending the whole journey in the Regalia then a bit of weakness wouldn’t matter either. He’d tell them if it got worse, but for now they didn’t need to know.

Ignis checked his watch. Quarter past five. It’d be hours before the rest of them woke, much less woke enough to get mobilised.

Maybe he should try and get some more sleep. He could taste blood in his mouth again. It was leaking from the gums around his back teeth.

Well, better that than his front teeth, or lungs. Ignis sighed and propped his head on his palm, closing his eyes. He wasn’t fooling himself; this was likely a very serious condition. But that didn’t alter his previous decision on the matter. All they needed to do was get to Hammerhead as soon as possible, and telling the others wouldn’t achieve that any better than if he didn’t tell them. He’d just have to make sure they didn’t get distracted on the way, or take any unnecessary detours.

It was entirely possible that he wasn’t being sensible. Perhaps he should tell the others. But no. It would be fine.

Breathing hurt, like there were an inch-long nail buried in his side, shifting with each movement of his ribs. His breathing itself was oddly laboured, for all that he’d done nothing at all strenuous that morning. Ignis bit his lower lip and wished that he’d been able to recognise how serious this was before he’d persuaded Noct to use that last potion. Never mind. What was done was done. He’d ask Noct to drive, have a rest on the journey, and it would be all better by the time they got to Hammerhead, by mid-afternoon at the latest.

For now, he’d take a short nap and then get started on breakfast. Despite the warmth of the previous day it had turned chilly during the night, but as predicted it hadn’t rained, the ground dry and last evening’s clouds gone without the slightest sign they’d been there in the first place. The sky, stretching from darkest blue to the red dawn horizon, was clear and beautiful, still dotted with faint stars. It really was only too bad that Noct wasn’t awake and up to see it.

Best not try climb back in the tent and risk not just disturbing his injury but waking all the others. Or Prompto and Gladio, at least. Ignis closed his eyes and tried to let his mind drift. Sleep eluded him. The pain in his side was edging ever closer to unbearable, and he had to swallow every now and then as his mouth continued to bleed. Blood tricked down his nose into the back of his throat.

Maybe he should give up on the idea of a nap and start on breakfast. He felt weak and uncomfortably aware of how fast his heart was beating. He’d need the leisure to cook at a slower pace than normal, so perhaps it was good that he couldn’t sleep. Leave sleeping to the experts in the tent.

Breakfast, then. The others had managed to finish off both their own and his remaining portion of the daggerquill rice, so leftovers were out of the question. He could do scrambled eggs, perhaps, with those bread rolls that needed to be eaten. Dress the eggs up in some spices, chillies and tamarind, mint and coriander, and toast the rolls over the grill. Or, since the eggs were fresh, poach them and let them stand on their own, save a touch of olive oil and lemon, salt and pepper, and served with the smoked meat of Noct’s prior fishing efforts.

The first glimpse of the sun made itself known on the horizon, and Ignis watched out of the corner of his eye as it crept higher and higher. The stars faded, the sky turned to a uniform pale blue. His eyes felt gritty and he took off his spectacles to rub them. It didn’t help.

Giving it a little while longer, Ignis checked his watch: six-twenty. Still too soon to expect anyone to be up, but he could give the grill a good deep-clean before breakfast, and that should make breakfast early but not too early. Ignis got up and steeled himself as his head spun and his wound dug its agony deep into him, very almost sending him back into the chair. He would definitely be asking Noct to drive, then. And perhaps the smell of cooking would rouse the others before their natural emergence, so they could set off all the more quickly.

Ignis sighed as he started to dismantle the grill. Perhaps, but he didn’t have much faith in it.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Ignis was awake and coherent enough to realise what was going on, it was already too late.

The car doors slammed and Ignis found himself half out of the Regalia, following the others, before he managed to swallow his mouthful of blood and saliva and speak up. ‘Noct!’ He saw the ashenhorns and remembered the bounty on them in the same second, and took another second to come to a conclusion on how this was very likely to end up. ‘Are you out of your bloody minds? Have all of you forgotten that we have exactly zero curatives left?’

‘Come on, Specs!’ Noct wasn’t even looking back; though, Ignis thought as he gripped his injured side – _fuck,_ it hurt – that might be a good thing with regards to hiding his wound. ‘You’re always going on about needing money, and they’re right here. You just know if we leave now we’ll never find them again.’

‘We’ll be fine!’ Prompto already had his guns out, and Ignis gritted his teeth as he caught up. ‘These little beasties’ll be no trouble, right?’

Ignis turned to Gladio, the only sensible member of the group other than himself. ‘And you’re just going to let them?’ His voice had gone ragged and rough, but desperation was welling up inside of him, spilling over. This was so very much not part of the plan. ‘Aren’t you meant to be protecting Noct, not letting him go kill himself over a few gil?’

‘Fuck, Iggy, what’s up with you?’ Gladio stared at him, hard, but then Prompto hefted his guns and fired, a deafening crack, at the same moment Noct warped out from besides them. The thunder of approaching ashenhorn cut the conversation short.

Ignis barely remembered the fight, afterwards. There was pain – pain when he moved, pain when he swung his lance, pain when he got knocked to the ground distracting an ashenhorn from Noct on its other side. Pain like being impaled, so bad he could barely see. The world narrowed to nothing but his own agony, his weapons, the enemy, and Noct.

The second time he got knocked down he hit a rock, rolled over as momentum carried him, and lay there face-down in the dirt. He found with some growing panic that he couldn’t get back up again. His heart rattled in his chest, swollen-feeling, beating so fast it felt like it might burst, might just stop altogether, and the horror of that seized him and wouldn’t let go. He’d lost his spectacles at some point but his arms couldn’t seem to move to try find them.

‘Hang in there, I’ve got you,’ Prompto shouted, somewhere above his head and the relentless pounding in his ears. The crack of gunfire, a hand on Ignis’ shoulder, turning him over. Somewhere a way away Noct shouted, and that was enough to force Ignis up, stumbling to his feet without quite knowing how. He gasped for air but couldn’t shake the feeling of suffocation. His heart was not slowing; the world spun around him as if he were appallingly drunk.

Prompto handed him his spectacles, tapping him with them on the nose when he didn’t respond quite fast enough. ‘My thanks,’ he managed, but Prompto had already turned to bound back into the fray.

Alone, Ignis took a moment to gag and spit, scrubbing at his grimy face with the back of one hand, before he put his spectacles back on. His vision still seemed a little blurry, but now he'd looked up he realised he didn’t have the time to work out why. One of the ashenhorns was down and the other two, bloodied and stumbling, were approaching the same fate. They were, however, both also converging on Prompto, and Noct was standing gamely by his side instead of warping away to behind the beasts and safety. That the four of them could win at all had never been in question – whether they could do it without one of them seriously needing a potion was altogether far more dubious, and being caught between two ashenhorns was a surefire way to fail.

Ignis ran, each step like someone trying to yank a jammed saw from his ribs, and stuck his lance into the nearest ashenhorn in the relatively soft spot between belly and hindlimb. He jumped back away from its massive head as it turned, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tip of the second one’s horn. It smashed into his shoulders like a sledgehammer, and he crashed into the ground with a cry, lying crumpled where he landed. The ashenhorn’s stamping feet made the ground tremble, and Ignis felt as much as watched as it come closer and closer, aware distantly that he should move but entirely unable to do so; then Gladio was hauling him up by the back of his shirt, stepping in front of him to take the ashenhorn down with a blow from his sword across its neck. Blood sprayed across him. The second ashenhorn moaned as it, too, fell, Noct balancing on its head with an arm wrapped around one horn, his sword stabbed deep into its skull.

Noct jumped off the dead ashenhorn as Prompto let out a celebratory shout. Ignis stepped away from Gladio, turning to pretend to look at the first of the creatures they’d taken down, clean his spectacles and brush his hair back, just for something to distract his shaking hands and hide the way he was desperately trying to catch his breath. For once he was glad about the gore that always accompanied these battles. His side was liberally wet with blood, but no worse than Noct’s legs and Gladio’s chest and thighs, and no one would be able to tell it was from wildly different sources. He forced himself to stay upright and not curl over or crouch down in the dry grass, no matter how unsteady his legs felt.

‘Shit, Iggy, you’re losing your touch. You could’ve done better than that when you were sixteen.’ Gladio’s voice had the boisterous air it always did after a particularly good fight, but there was also an edge of added wariness. Ignis made a conscious effort to relax his jaw before he turned back to him.

‘Yes, well,’ he said, adjusting his glasses again as he spoke so to hide his mouth. He was still breathless, and sure that he had blood on his teeth. ‘We all have our off-days.’

‘Hell of an off-day,’ Gladio said, as they started to move back to the Regalia. ‘You sure you’re doing all right?’ He was watching him out of the corner of his eye, Ignis could tell, and damn him, would he not just lay off?

‘Yes, I am sure.’ If his voice was clipped and unfriendly, well, then at least they could chalk it up to embarrassment. Let them think what they would, just so long as they didn’t waste any more time. ‘And we’re going to have to put down towels at least if we don’t want to rack up a considerable cleaning bill for the Regalia’s upholstery.’ He’d meant to say more, something about it costing just as much as they were earning with this thoroughly stupid jaunt, but he couldn’t quite catch his breath for it. Trying to control his breathing, slow it down to anywhere near normal, only made it worse.

At least Prompto and Noct were distracting themselves, peering at Prompto’s camera and, from the sounds of it, bickering over whether a photo was worth Prompto having stopped fighting to take it. At least no one had been hurt. That was the main thing. And Gladio was finally getting off his back, jogging up to the Regalia to stop Noct and Prompto before they made a mess on the seats. Ignis hung back, watching with exhausted, gritty eyes as Gladio pulled out the tent rain cover to drape over the back seat, and raincoats – was this the first use the raincoats had got since purchase? It was getting hard to think – over the front ones.

‘My turn to drive!’ As soon as Gladio was done, Prompto muscled Noct out of the way to grab the driver’s seat.

‘What? No way, it’s still my turn!’ Noct shoved Prompto back and Ignis ignored them as he walked around the car and sat down in the passenger-side backseat, eyes pressed shut. His legs were trembling, his head spinning. He could barely feel anything, save for the pain stabbing through his side into his chest, and his own heart, beating like a wasp trapped in a jar. No one was hurt and he should concentrate on that. That was the main thing. Noct was safe. Tilting his head back so the blood in his nose ran down his throat, and squeezing his thigh in a failed attempt to feel something other than slicing agony, Ignis missed how the argument ended. He barely registered the Regalia starting up and making its bumpy way back onto the road.

He just had to hold it together until they got those curatives. Pretend he was fine. Another hour or two and then he could put this all behind him. He’d been through worse, he was sure, even if he couldn’t quite remember when. He’d just power through it. He had no choice not to.

The Regalia’s roof went up and back. Wind tore at his face and neck. Ignis turned his head away from whoever was sitting next to him in the back seat, because the feeling of suffocation had only got worse and he was sure it must be obvious how much he was struggling to breathe. At some point he’d broken out into a cold sweat, and, with the wind, he wondered abstractly if he wouldn’t freeze to death before they arrived. There was something caught in the corner of his left eye but he didn’t think he could manage lifting his hand to wipe it away.

‘Hey, Specs.’ Ignis opened his eyes and turned to look at Noct, sitting next to him. ‘You doing okay? You look kind of…’ He made a vague gesture with his hand.

‘I’m fine, I assure you.’ The lie slid out automatically. At this point he wasn’t quite sure why he was lying. Things had definitely got worse. He could feel his heartbeat turn irregular, fluttering for a few seconds before steadying itself. His reptile brain screamed at him, a constant background hysteria, to do something before his heart stopped beating altogether, but there wasn’t anything he could do. He could feel his mouth move almost of its own accord. ‘Just worn out, and looking forward to some civilisation. A hot shower will do wonders, I should think.’

‘Yeah.’

Noct didn’t look convinced, but then he trusted Ignis, always had done. Ignis felt a twinge of guilt, but given everything else it was hard to concentrate on. The car doors around him felt like a cage.

A pause, before Noct said: ‘You want an Ebony?’

It was a kind gesture, and it reminded Ignis that he really ought to be doing more to avoid dehydration. But strong coffee was about the worst thing he could do to himself now, save throw himself bodily from the moving car. Even if Ebony would get the taste of blood from his mouth.

‘Perhaps not right now,’ he said, and trying at once to keep his tone light and come up with a reasonable excuse was a struggle. ‘I was thinking to save our current supply until after we reach Hammerhead; wouldn’t do to drink them all and then realise I couldn’t restock, now, would it?’

‘I don’t even want to think what would happen,’ Noct said, dryly. If he thought the excuse was contrived he didn’t let it show. Or perhaps he did and Ignis was just not functioning at a high enough level to realise. It really was a good thing he was sitting down, Ignis thought, because he was fairly sure that he’d be face-down on the floor otherwise.

Was he really deteriorating so quickly?

Just a bit further. His heart stammered and stumbled in his chest. The bleeding hadn’t stopped and now his hip and upper thigh were wet, though he only knew because he looked. He couldn’t feel the blood on himself, any more, or the wind.

 _This would be a terrible way to die_ , he thought, two seconds before the Regalia slowed and stopped.

‘Hey, what’s – oh.’ Noct stood, leaning over the top of Prompto’s head.

‘Yeah. Oh,’ Gladio said, as he got out of the car and inspected the rockfall that was blocking the road. Ignis stared at it dully from inside the Regalia. Of course. Rockfall. Of course.

Prompto switched off the Regalia and clambered out after Gladio, and Noct followed. There were only three large rocks – one about a metre diameter, the others two metres  – and some amount of smaller rubble.

‘Turn around and head back?’ Prompto said, sounding dubious of his own suggestion.

‘Hold on.’ Gladio put his shoulder against the largest rock and gave it a push. Ignis closed his eyes, digging his fingers into his thigh but wholly unable to feel it. ‘I reckon we might be able to roll this one, and can probably just shove that out the way, and that’ll give us enough room to drive through.’

‘Maybe.’ Noct didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but then, given the situation, he could hardly be blamed for it.

‘If I rock it and one of you wedge something underneath, then we all give it a push… hey, Iggy, get your ass over here!’

‘I don’t think,’ Ignis began, but was cut off.

‘Come on, no one’s going to be hurt by rocks, for fuck’s sake,’ Gladio said. ‘If we have to turn back we’ll be days without your precious potions.’

He was probably right. It was still a terrible idea to even move, let alone get out of the Regalia and attempt to walk.

Noct appeared back by the Regalia, on the other side of Ignis’ door, and Ignis didn’t think he warped but couldn’t quite say how he got there otherwise, because he hadn’t seen him move. ‘Ignis,’ Noct said, very quietly and very far away. ‘Are you okay?’

Ignis realised he was clenching his side, just below the wound. He let go, reached out, found the door handle, and pushed the door open. He could probably go and have a look at the rocks, at least. Probably. Swinging his legs over and out, he braced himself on the door as he stood.

Agony, but that was fine. He might be able to do this after all. Ignis took a step forwards, turned to close the door, and his legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed onto the dusty road.


	3. Chapter 3

He was, for all that his body had failed entirely, still conscious. He could feel Noct gather him up and lay him down across the Regalia’s backseat, the action awkward from having to climb in with him to drag him in all the way. His hearing wasn’t all that great, but he could pick out Noct calling his name, and Prompto somewhere near his feet, which were dangling out of the open car door. He couldn’t hear Gladio. Maybe he was too far away.

His eyesight was worse than his hearing; he could see a blur of motion that was probably Noct’s face, but other than that there was only an odd no-input blackness. It should be worrying, Ignis knew, but he found himself pleasantly calm about it all. Even the pain had faded, and only faint pressure remained.

Then it all came back, each absent sense, pain and fear, poured into him like wine into a glass. Noct’s face was far too close to his own; Ignis pushed him back, but as Noct shuffled out of the way his knee caught Ignis’ side, right on top of the wound.

Ignis wouldn’t say he screamed, per se, but Noct jerked away then warped right out of the Regalia, and the split second of his face that Ignis saw was utterly stricken. Ignis’ shut his eyes and muffled himself with his wrist pressed hard across his mouth.

‘What did you do?’ Prompto, still by his feet, had a hysterical edge to his voice that Ignis had only ever heard before in battles gone horribly wrong.

‘I don’t know!’ Noct said, and even above everything the distress in his voice made Ignis want to tell him it was fine, put a hand on his shoulder and draw him out of his horror with calm reassurance. ‘He just fainted; when he came to he started twisting and then that–’

‘Ignis!’ The door by his head opened and Gladio’s voice was really far too loud. ‘Where’re you hurt?’

It wasn’t so much a question as a command. Ignis forced his hand away from his face. ‘My side,’ he said, gritting the words out. He needed more air; he couldn’t breathe. ‘From yesterday.’

Even before he'd finished speaking Gladio was undoing his shirt, yanking at the buttons in his haste, and Ignis wanted to bat him away but knew it wouldn’t be worth it. The air was cold on his stomach and sides, and his shirt had to be peeled from his skin.

Gladio pulled the gauze down and away – the tape had become loose, perhaps during the fight. A beat of silence. Gladio swore, extensively.

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Noct said. His voice shook. ‘The potion – why give it to me when you’re–’

‘It wasn’t bad until this morning,’ Ignis said, and panted for breath. His heart stuttered, skipping a beat. He tried to convince himself his heart wouldn’t just stop and not start again, and there really was no need for the cold fear gripping him.

‘Come on.’ Gladio turned and left. ‘Let’s move the rocks and get to Hammerhead. He’s not gonna get better with us standing round staring.’

Prompto ran after him almost immediately. Noctis lingered, until Ignis managed to open his eyes and smile. ‘I’ll be fine, Highness,’ he said. He could feel blood sliding down his throat. His head was pounding, heart trembling under his ribs. ‘But the sooner we get to Hammerhead–’ He couldn’t finish, too winded, forced to stop just to breathe. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again Noct was gone.

If he concentrated, he could hear them moving the rocks – mostly Gladio giving orders and shouting from the effort. He hoped they didn’t hurt themselves. Distantly, he hoped they would be able to move them fast enough, and they wouldn’t return to the Regalia to find him already dead, or alive but only to die on the road.

He didn’t want to die, now, like this. Didn’t want to leave Noct when Noct still had so far to go.

How could he have been so stupid?

The agony in his side, creeping steadily into the rest of his body, was beginning to be too much. He couldn’t filter it out any longer, no more than he could look at the noon sky and not see the sun. He kept imagining the car was moving when it wasn’t. His heart skipped a beat, stumbling; he willed it to keep going. Just a bit more. Not much further now.

How long were they going to take? It felt like it had been hours already. Ignis swallowed and choked on his own saliva, coughing and unable to stop despite the agony of it. He could hear them: Gladio snapping at Prompto, telling him to back off, he was just in the way; go clear some of the rubble. Telling Noct to lift not push, not there, _there,_ move his godsdamned fingers before they get crushed – he was being far too harsh, but then, that's how he'd always been when faced with emergencies. It got the job done. Still, Ignis wished he wasn't quite so extreme, if only for Noct's sake. That kind of pressure worked, but only in the short term.

The sound of rock grinding against rock. A bang and a crash.

The opening of the Regalia’s doors, the dip as Gladio got into the driver’s seat. ‘Prompto,’ he said, as he started up the engine. ‘Call Cindy and tell her to have a potion and antidote waiting for us when we arrive.’

‘Y-yes.’ Prompto got shotgun, which left–

‘Should I sit with Prompto?’

‘Sit by Iggy’s feet. He might need someone to steady him,’ Gladio said. ‘And hurry the fuck up, already!’

‘Noct,’ Ignis said, as loud as he could. He reached up and fumbled with the door handle by his head, managing to unlock it but too weak and at the wrong angle to push it open. ‘Here.’

It hurt, Noct lifting him up to slide onto the seat beneath him, back to the door and Ignis between his legs, head pillowed on his stomach. But Noct was warm against him, and he held Ignis’ hands in his own, tucked up under Ignis’ chin.

Gladio didn’t often drive. He had his licence, of course, but as much as he mocked Prompto’s driving he wasn’t all that good at it himself. The Regalia bounced as it went over a pothole, breaking through a corner at entirely the wrong moment, and Ignis was glad he had Noct with him if only to stop him sliding off the seats entirely. He had to be gripping Noct’s hands hard enough to hurt, but Noct didn’t pull away, just held on tighter.

This closeness might have been a mistake. He didn’t want to be bleeding, delirious with pain and organ failure, on Noct's lap. Noct shouldn’t have to see it so intimately at this. Noct shouldn’t have to see it at all. This was pure selfishness on his own part.

And yet – Ignis didn’t have the wherewithal to move away now. He didn’t think Noct would allow it either way. He tried to concentrate on Noct’s body against his own – the faint rise and fall of his stomach as he breathed, the pressure of his thighs on Ignis’ arms, his legs bracketing Ignis’ hips and bracing him as the car turned. His hands in Ignis’ hands. How long until Hammerhead? He realised he’d lost track of the time entirely.

Noct shifted, very slightly. ‘Gladio? … Gladio.’

‘What?’

‘He’s bleeding. From his mouth and nose.’

The sound of Prompto turning in his seat, and a touch on Ignis’ thigh that Ignis saw but didn’t feel. ‘C’mon, Iggy,’ Prompto said, voice cracking in its attempt at humour, retreating into it for lack of anywhere else to go. ‘You can’t die on us now. That’ll make me the cook, and you know how much I hate cooking. Noct will never eat anything healthy again.’

‘Sit back down,’ Gladio snapped. ‘And Noct, tilt his head so the blood comes out, or it’ll go straight down his throat.’

He could protest and say that that’s what he’d been doing all day, but he doubted it’d be worth it. He let Noct shuffle him so he was lying on his side, head tilted down and resting on Noct’s thigh. It was a good thing Gladio had put down the rain cover, he thought, as blood bubbled out of his nose, dripping onto the seat. His chest felt tight, as if he were being squeezed by a giant’s hand. Tight enough to be painful, and painful enough to be noticeable over the agony of the wound.

It was a little while after that that he realised his eyes weren’t closed, he just couldn’t see any more, darkness blotting out his vision. His breathing had turned shallow and rapid, restricted by the tightness, never enough to calm the panic buzz in his head. Noct had taken off his spectacles at some point, and periodically wiped his face with a damp cloth. The other hand was still clutching his own.

Ignis wished he could sit up. This was – well, he’d never disliked lying in Noct’s lap, but by now it was obtuse to deny the fact that he was dying. Noct also knew, and had gathered him up on his lap to try and ease his last painful hour or so. No, it wasn’t that he didn’t like being on Noct’s lap, he just wished he wasn’t dying there.

It also hurt. He hadn’t been under any illusions about how he was likely to die, or at least how easily, but…

Frustrated tears prickled in his eyes. He thought Noct might be saying something, but beyond the hum of the Regalia’s engine and the pounding of blood in his ears, he couldn’t hear it. Only last night he’d been so confident. If he’d told them all about his wound in the first place, would he be here, curled in Noct’s lap, slowly bleeding out as his organs died inside of him? They wouldn’t have stopped for the ashenhorns if they’d known. Would that have made all the difference, or none at all? How much were they going to blame themselves, Ignis wondered. Both Noct and Gladio had seen something wrong enough to try and raise the point, and Prompto surely would have noticed too, even if he hadn’t said anything, but none had forced the issue.

They’d treated him like a competent adult, a reliable partner.

And all he’d been trying to do was avoid making Noct feel any more guilty than he already had.

The Regalia bumped and swerved, and Ignis tried to muffle his cry of pain but didn't succeed.

Struck down by an unknown enemy in an easy fight. Die the next day in his prince’s arms, because of his inability to keep track of their antidote stock. How shameful. At least he would not have to suffer through the awkward conversations concerning his untimely demise. Ignis was not an egotistical man, but he rather hoped the three of them would put their heads together and decide on a story a touch less embarrassing than the truth, when it came to informing everyone else about this.

_At least it will be a lesson in being prepared_ , Ignis thought, aware that he was not entirely coherent but unable to do anything about it. _Will Noct ever be caught without a full complement of curatives, after this?_

_He’s already lost so much. Will Gladio and Prompto be enough to support him, until the very end?_

‘I’m sorry.’ Ignis didn’t realise he’d said it aloud until Noct pulled him in tighter. ‘I should have been more careful. I’m sorry.’

It sounded odd, his own voice, barely more than a ragged whisper. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Noct was saying in reply, but that was all right, because he couldn’t hear anyway.

_I wanted to stay with you,_ Ignis meant to say but wasn’t sure if he was managing it or not. _I wanted to help you, not be another burden on your shoulders. Noct, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry._

He gripped Noct’s hands, as if he could cling to him that way. Everything was draining away again, only this time, even as his hands lost their grip on Noct’s, he fell unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

Ignis surprised himself by waking up.

It was not a pleasant experience, but Noct was calling his name, and it would be gauche for his last actions to be refusing an order. So he cracked open his eyes just in time to realise something was being pressed into his hand. Fingers closed around his, squeezed, and the potion cracked and washed over him.

Ignis sat up, leant out of the car, and threw up the blood he’d spent all day swallowing. Prompto shrieked.

‘Specs. Here.’ Something else. Ah. An antidote. Ignis managed to break this one by himself, but his arm trembled as it held him up, and his head was spinning. Still, he was alive, and going to stay that way for the foreseeable future. Which was… he was too tired and sore for it to make much impact. His heart still beat too fast, too shallow, but at least the pace was steady. Ignis sat back, half against the seat and half curled up against Noct. He shouldn’t, not in public, but he couldn’t find the energy to even want to move away. Where were his spectacles? Noct must still have them.

‘Why isn’t he better? Should he have another one?’ Noct’s arms snaked around his waist, not minding the blood-soaked fabric. Then again, he was already liberally covered in blood. A little more wouldn’t make any difference.

‘Pretty sure he just needs a good rest,’ Gladio said, though he didn’t sound entirely confident. His voice was uncharacteristically thin. ‘Give him time grow some new blood, or whatever the hell you do. You park somewhere proper while I sort out a caravan.’

Noct and Prompto were both unusually subdued, Ignis thought drowsily, as Prompto got into the driver’s seat and drove for another half minute or so. He’d have assumed they’d be happier. The smooth, slow motion of the Regalia was soothing, and Noct a solid, warm weight against him.

Gladio returned, and, with an arm around Noct’s shoulders, Ignis managed to stumble his way into the caravan, and then into the bathroom. There was barely enough room for him on his own – with Noct, standing in front of him to tug off his clothes and drop them on the floor, it was a very tight squeeze. The dripping bandage went into the bin. His shirt would probably have to go the same way, Ignis thought, a little regretfully, and his braces. Hopefully they wouldn’t stain the bathroom floor in the meantime. Then Noct started to remove his own clothes, and Ignis caught his hand, stopping him.

‘Highness, I’ll be quite alright in the shower.’

‘Bullshit,’ Noct said. He shook off Ignis’ hand effortlessly and carried on undressing.

His voice had been hard and uncompromising in a way it rarely ever was. Ignis faltered, and stood there as Noct fished out a plastic stool from under the sink to put in the shower, motioning Ignis to sit down on it.

Ignis sat, and let Noct squeeze in past him, back flush with the wall, pulling shut the shower door after him. Ignis’ back was pressed tight against Noct’s bloodied thighs and hips, and he had to fold his legs down awkwardly so to not knock them against the door. His side twinged, and Ignis rubbed at it. Smooth skin, not so much as the faintest scar. He wondered what it had looked like half an hour ago.

Noct held the shower-head in one hand, hanging by his side, but he didn’t turn the water on. Ignis closed his eyes and waited for him, ignoring the chill.

‘I thought–’ Noct said, still in that same harsh voice. ‘I really thought I was going to lose you. Ignis, what the hell?’

It was hard to keep his head upright and not rest it back on Noct, but Ignis managed it. The blood on his own skin was drying, itchy and flaking, distracting. ‘I thought it a small thing, and I didn’t want to worry you,’ he said, opening his eyes to the off-white sink in front of him, distorted by the plastic shower door.

‘If it was that small why’d you think we’d worry?’

Ignis hesitated. ‘I wanted you to have the potion. By the time I knew it was more serious, and that you would worry, it was too late. I thought the best thing would be to sit back and wait, since we were going straight to get more curatives whether I said anything or not. After that, I admit, I was not thinking very clearly.’

‘Right. And you didn’t want me to feel guilty for taking the potion.’

‘Yes.’

‘Specs, do you know how close you were to dying? You stopped breathing. Twice.’

‘I am aware of how close it was, yes.’

The caravan was cold, and sitting naked, his skin still damp with sweat and blood, Ignis started to shiver. ‘We might have avoided the fight with the ashenhorns,’ he said. ‘But apart from that, it wasn’t as if knowing could have got us here any faster.’

‘You could’ve died in that fight. One of us might’ve been relying on you to back us up and died when you couldn’t.’

‘I feel like that’s a bit of an exaggeration–’

‘Like fuck it is!’ Noct slammed his fist against the back wall of the shower. He was shouting. ‘What’d you be saying if I’d done it? You’re meant to be the sensible one! I had to hold you for the last two hours, hemorrhaging everywhere, checking every thirty seconds to see if you were dead or not – I had to breathe for you when you stopped – I thought we were gonna arrive and Gladio would have to pry your corpse from me–’

It would be facetious to remind Noct that between the two of them, surely he, as the one dying, had had the more traumatic experience. More importantly, it would have been unkind. And he was too tired to fight. ‘I acted foolishly,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Noct. I should have done better.’

Noct turned on the shower, the water shooting out around their feet. It was cold, and Ignis startled, rocking back into Noct’s stomach.

‘That’s not the point,’ Noct said, but he seemed to have run out of steam. Waiting until the water warmed, he held the shower-head over Ignis’ shoulder, letting the spray wash over his chest and sides. There was a cloth and soap; Ignis began scrubbing himself. His hand gripped the cloth only reluctantly. The sound of water reminded him that he was desperately thirsty.

Fingers appeared in his hair, the water running off Ignis’ head, down his face, blinding him with shampoo. Shampoo got into his mouth, too, but Noct wasn’t doing it on purpose, and his hand was gentle. Ignis let his head loll, rocked from side to side as fingers scrubbed over his scalp. He let himself lean back onto Noct’s body, the cloth resting on his lap.

‘–Ignis? Ignis.’

Ignis sat up, realising that at some point he’d slumped over. How much time had passed? He wiped the taste of soap from around his mouth. ‘I’m sorry; I dozed off for a second.’

Noct turned off the shower. ‘We’re done,’ he said. ‘Up.’

Standing and opening the shower door, Ignis grasped at a towel; his head swam, legs giving way beneath him. Noct caught him, strong arms looping around his waist. Their bodies, wet, hot, pressed back to chest, their legs knocking together.

He was too exhausted to be embarrassed, bone-tired, head listing to one side as Noct hauled him back onto his feet. ‘Ah,’ Ignis said. ‘Thank you.’

Noct made him sit back down on the stool, drying him off even as he crouched half out of the shower, dripping all over the bathroom floor. Then, after Noct finished toweling off his hair and started on himself, Ignis closed his stinging eyes and leant against the wall, getting damp again. He wondered whether Noct was going to carry on with his lecture afterwards, and whether he was going to get another lecture from Gladio – very likely – and Prompto – unlikely. He wondered if Gladio was annoyed that they’d taken up the shower for so long.

He just wanted to lie down and sleep. Drink something first, because the dehydration headache was really starting to set in in earnest, and then sleep. Wrapped in a towel, he let Noct lead him out of the bathroom, shuffling his bare feet on the grimy floor. The caravan was empty, quiet; Gladio and Prompto were outside, still. Noct shut the door and pulled down the blinds. Hands rough and not entirely steady, he dressed Ignis in his pyjamas. Ignis stood still and let him, obedient and pliant. It did feel good to be clean again, and in clean clothes.

Finished, Noct turned to pull on his own pyjamas. A glance at the clock told Ignis it was half-seven; rather much too early to be packing up for the night, but Gladio would probably wake Noct at some point to get some food in him. Ignis got himself a glass of water, rinsing his mouth out at the same time, as much from the shampoo as blood. Brushing his teeth would be ideal, but then Noct was behind him again, arms around his waist, lips pressed to the nape of his neck. Ignis sighed as he leant his head back, holding on to Noct’s arms as if there were any danger of him letting go.

Noct’s hands slid under Ignis’ shirt, popping open a couple of the buttons he’d just done up. Hips pressing forward, Noct rubbed himself against Ignis’ body. Ignis braced his feet and pressed back, hands searching out Noct’s hips to hold on to.

It would be nice to sleep, but if this was what Noct wanted, well, then Ignis wanted it too.

‘I almost lost you,’ Noct said between the kisses peppered across the back and sides of Ignis’ neck, hot and humid and the faintest scrape of teeth. ‘I thought you were going to die and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it.’

‘I won’t leave you,’ Ignis said. He broke Noct’s grip just enough to turn around in his arms, and held him as tight as he could. Their legs tangled up together as Noct pressed forwards, as if trying to climb right into him. ‘I promise.’

‘How do I know that?’

There wasn’t an answer to that question. None of them could guarantee anything except well-meaning. Ignis’ legs were starting to feel unsteady; he closed his eyes, light-headed, very aware of the pressure of Noct’s arm against where the wound had been. It wasn’t painful so much as distinctly uncomfortable, so Ignis didn’t try to move his grip. He tugged Noct with him so they stepped backwards together, sitting down on one of the beds, Noct straddling his lap. They kissed – Noct pressing urgency, Ignis trying to keep up, short messy kisses, out of sync as he opened his mouth to accept Noct in, shared breath burning against his skin. Noct rocked his hips; he was half-hard, and getting harder as he ground against Ignis’ lap.

Ignis turned his head to one side, breaking the kiss. ‘Lock the door,’ he said, as Noct pressed his lips to Ignis’ jawline and the soft skin behind his ear. ‘Lube?’

Noct groaned in agreement but didn’t move, save from the little half-thrusts of his hips. After a few seconds Ignis pushed him from his lap, and with Noct fumbling with the caravan door, Ignis turned to lie properly on the bed. He lifted his hips to kick off his trousers, leaving his top on. His skin was prickling with a cold sweat, and he was short-breathed in a way that had nothing to do with the kissing. He wasn’t hard, either, but never mind that.

Noct returned, face flushed red, damp hair sticking up at all angles. He hesitated, until Ignis gripped him by the wrist and pulled him down on top of him.


	5. Chapter 5

Noct really was beautiful. Moreover, he was desperately, maddeningly hot. His face and chest were flushed pink, mouth open just enough to see the red, wet inside. His hooded eyes, his hair sticking to his skin, damp with sweat on his forehead. Cock standing erect between his thighs, tip just a little bit damp. And it was something, out of all the people in the world, only Ignis had the privilege to see, touch, and taste.

It was probably because he had only about two thirds the amount of blood he ought to that meant he was not just as hard as Noct was. In fact he felt decidedly queasy, and pulled Noct’s hands away from his cock when Noct tried to reach for it, tugging Noct up to lie on top of him, a solid, hot and already slightly sticky weight.

‘I want you to fuck me,’ he said in Noct’s ear, letting the pitch of his voice drop. He ran his hands down Noct’s back to rest on his thighs, just below the curve of his arse, and squeezed.

Noct responded by rocking his hips forward, groaning out a breath into the base of Ignis’ neck. ‘Yeah,’ he said, teeth scraping the delicate skin there and making Ignis shiver. ‘Good.’

Sitting up, Noct squeezed out some lube onto his fingers and stroked himself, quick and perfunctory, not bothering with a condom. Ignis preferred them, if only because they made for easier cleanup. Now there was no space, no way out from under Noct’s right hand on his shoulder, pinning him down, and left hand on his arse, pulling him up so Noct could nudge his knees under Ignis’ hips, shuffling into position. This would be the time for Ignis to stop him with a firm hand, remind him of the existence of foreplay, wear away at Noct’s heady impatience to get him slower, more gentle, sweat-slicked and pliant. There wasn’t space for that, either. Noct’s face still held a vulnerability that Ignis could not refuse.

Perhaps surprisingly, given his attitude in almost every other matter, Noct was a selfish lover. Unsurprisingly, Ignis found himself catering to it utterly.

Ignis lifted his legs, hooking one over Noct’s shoulder and wrapping the other around his waist. Normally he would rest his hands above his head, stretch out and expose himself fully before Noct’s eyes, resist all temptation to touch his own aching cock. This time there was no temptation, and perhaps Noct would appreciate a grounding touch more than just the sight of him. Ignis gripped Noct’s thighs, fingers curling behind his knees, tightening their hold when his cock nudged against his entrance, wet with lube, leaving cold smears on his skin. Ignis arching his back, not even trying to contain his groan, when Noct pushed forwards, moving slowly into him. It hurt, a sharp, stinging pain – he’d had no preparation, and while he didn’t usually need it Noct was being too rough, forcing the thrust in a way that couldn’t be comfortable for himself either. Ignis canted his hips and the new angle made it a little easier. He didn’t let the discomfort show on his face.

Noct paused half-way in, panting, his thighs trembling. He rocked his hips, just tiny motions; Ignis felt his body clamp down, the rocking seeming to only make it worse, but he didn’t think he had the breath to tell Noct to stop. Ignis shifted again, willing himself to relax.

The air was cold, prickling against the sweat on his skin. Noct burnt hot, leaning forward to run his hands along Ignis’ body, as if trying to touch as much skin as possible. He leant even further, bending Ignis nearly in half so he could reach down and kiss him, and slowly started to move again. In this position there wasn’t much leeway for Ignis to move with him, only to grip on with his legs and loop his arms around Noct’s neck, pulling him closer still.

Noct’s thrusts were short, deep, and he panted open-mouthed against Ignis’ neck. The pain had moved on to something else – not quite pleasure, but fullness, a sticky closeness. Emotion swelled in Ignis’ chest – warmth, satisfied yearning; his heart pounded, hard enough to ache.

‘I’m here,’ Ignis said, fingers twisting into the hair at the base of Noct’s skull, digging in gently with his blunt fingernails. ‘I’ve got you.’ The sexual small-talk threw him, like it always did, but Noct nodded and moaned and kissed Ignis’ collarbone, up his neck and jawline, biting his earlobe then sucking on it.

‘Noct.’ Ignis let his voice deepen, breathing out the word on a groan, rocked with the force of Noct’s thrusts. ‘Noct.’ He could almost ignore the rest of the world when he was like this, here with Noct pressed so close as to be inside of him. It almost possible to believe nothing else mattered beyond the tiny caravan bed, and Noct’s arms.

It wasn’t true. He couldn’t shut off that part of his brain, and especially not when he didn’t have arousal clouding it out. But it was close enough.

Ignis ran his hands down Noct’s back to rub unsteady circles on his flanks, pulling him closer in time with the thrusts, as if he needed the encouragement. The bed creaked beneath them and Ignis let his head fall back, exposing the length of his neck to Noct’s lips and gentle teeth.

‘Yes, good,’ he said, breathless, and Noct reached up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

Noct liked to hear him speak during sex, but it wasn’t something that came naturally to him. He always ended up either distracted by the inanity of the things that didn’t require thought, or distracted by thinking about the things that did. There was a compromise to be had, somewhere, but he had yet to find it. A sudden urge to apologise rose, but Ignis pushed it away. Noct wouldn’t like to hear that now. He probably wouldn’t like to hear it at all. It would still be worth apologising to Gladio, who must have lost a great deal of respect for Ignis over this whole debacle. And he should apologise to Prompto for worrying him, which might be enough to snap him out of the guilt he would surely be feeling about not having said or done anything.

Noct would be more difficult. Noct was shifting, dropping his shoulder, and Ignis slid his leg off it to curl around Noct’s waist. He pushed his hips back and rocked with the thrusts, which had slowed a little, scraping a new angle that made the muscles in Ignis’ back clench without him meaning them to. A twinge in his belly and he made a noise, somewhere between a gasp and a little cry, biting it back a second too late.

Noct replied with a laugh that turned into a breathy groan, repeating the motion. The third time he was sloppier, fingers tightening their grip on Ignis’ shoulders. The fourth time he came, muffling himself against Ignis’ neck, hips jerking without rhythm.

They remained like that for a moment longer before Noct pulled out, slumping to lie half on top of Ignis, half beside him, nuzzling at his collarbones and pressing soft little kisses to them. Ignis gathered him in his arms and tugged him up to kiss him on the lips, chaste at first, then opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, long and lazy. He stroked the line of Noct’s back, like stroking an overlarge housecat.

With any luck Noct would fall asleep here, and, if not have forgiven Ignis by the time he woke, then at least have the harsh edges of his anger and guilt softened into something more manageable. Ignis shifted a little; he was sore, more so than before the sex, but nothing he couldn’t deal with. Certainly an improvement on earlier that day. The kiss slowed. Ignis let his hands follow suit, guiding Noct’s head to pillow on his chest.

It’d be about twenty minutes before Noct was sleeping deeply enough for Ignis to safely wriggle out of the bed and maneuver Noct under the covers. Wipe himself down, get dressed, unlock the door for Gladio and Prompto, and start on his apologies. Twenty minutes was a generous estimate, truthfully, but better safe than sorry. More than twenty minutes would mean Noct would start to get cold, lying as they were, on top of the bed covers. Ignis let his eyes drift across the dark corners of the caravan. He’d break open an Ebony and get started on dinner, either using what they had or send Prompto to the shops. He’d need to stay nearby for when Noct woke.

He wondered when it’d hit him, how close it’d been. If the journey had been another hour – another half hour? If there’d been four rocks on the road rather than three. If something even minor had gone wrong in the fight with the ashenhorns. MTs.

Shame at having been unreliable prickled at the edge of his awareness but didn’t encroach just yet. Guilt over having caused everyone to fear for, even mourn him. Humiliation for being a burden, letting them see him at his absolute weakest. Fear of his own fragile mortality. No doubt it would all emerge soon enough. Ignis sighed and listened to the sound of a car pass on the road outside. If he concentrated he could just about make out Gladio and Prompto talking. He wondered if they’d heard him and Noct, or realised the caravan door was locked. They must have, but he couldn’t manage embarrassment, either.

Noct’s hair was damp. It’d dry into unflattering angles at this rate, squashed flat on the side of his head he had pressed against Ignis’ chest. Ignis tilted Noct’s head more upright and ran his fingers through his hair, combing it into an approximation of what he liked. Under his hand Noct made an indistinct noise, murmuring in his sleep, and Ignis let his eyes fall shut.

He’d cross the necessary bridges when he came to them. For now, for another twenty minutes, all he had to do was hold Noct close.  


* * * * * *  


Ignis was halfway to the door, sliding on his spectacles, when it opened. Prompto stood on the other side. The bright light from outside made Ignis blink, momentarily blinded.

‘You’re up!’ Prompto lunged forward and grabbed Ignis by the shoulders, turning him around and steering him back to the bedroom. It was half out of bemusement, and half because he didn’t think he could put up any sort of fight at all, that Ignis let him. Prompto twirled him around again, and gently shoved him onto one of the unoccupied beds. ‘Aaand, you’re down again.’

‘Thank you for that,’ Ignis said, with a small, tired smile. ‘But I’m afraid I do need to be up.’

‘Iggy, you were basically dead two hours ago. You need sleep, fluffy pillows, all that stuff.’ Prompto glanced at Noct, then back at Ignis. ‘We’ve got everything sorted, really. And Gladio will have your ass if he catches you out of bed.’

There was a sort of determination in Prompto’s voice – hiding behind the playfulness, a more serious, harder edge. He still rubbed the back of his neck, awkward, not quite sure how to continue.

‘He’s right,’ Gladio said, stepping into the caravan. ‘Though,’ he added, dryly, ‘looks like Noct got there before me.’

Prompto went red. Ignis snorted lightly.

‘I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t have let him,’ Gladio said. He leant against the bedroom door frame and crossed his arms. ‘But shit, Iggy, you need rest, and I for one am gonna make sure you get it. Now lie back down and don’t even think of arguing. No, on your own bed, not somewhere Noctis can start molesting you again.’

‘That’s your king you’re talking about,’ Ignis said, but he lay down anyway, graciously allowing Prompto to fuss with the covers, attempting to tuck it around him. His head felt a lot better horizontal, not that he’d admit it.

‘He’s my king and I’ll get him with an electric prod if he bothers you again,’ Gladio said, without humour. There was a pause.

‘Lectures start tomorrow morning, seven o’clock sharp?’ Ignis said. His eyelids felt far too heavy. The darkness of the caravan probably wasn’t helping.

Gladio snorted. He turned, poured a glass of water at the sink, and brought it over. ‘Drink,’ he said, even though Ignis had already sat up and was reaching to accept it. Prompto put a hand on Ignis’ back, holding him steady, entirely unnecessarily; Ignis handed the empty glass back to Gladio, who refilled it and put it on the floor back by the bed. ‘Do you think you can handle any food?’

‘Perhaps not right now,’ Ignis said.

‘We’ll save you something, in case you feel up for it later,’ Prompto said, getting up. ‘And we’ll get some beans for His Highness over there.’

‘Don’t be too harsh on him,’ Ignis said, murmuring the words as his eyes closed. Gladio chuckled; his hand, calloused, brushed Ignis’ forehead. He plucked the spectacles from his face and put them down on the table.

‘It’s good to have you back with us,’ Gladio said.

They shut the front door behind them, casting the caravan back into darkness. Ignis breathed out, burrowing a little deeper down under the covers. The vague desire for another drink of water wasn’t winning against the lazy urge to stay exactly where he was. Already there was a pleasant cocoon of warmth surrounding him.

Prompto and Gladio were talking again, a gentle background murmur from where they sat outside. Belatedly, Ignis realised that Gladio must have washed and changed somewhere other than the caravan. Good, then. At least he hadn’t spent all this time waiting to get clean.

The sound of movement, shifting and rustling sheets. Ignis opened his eyes. ‘D’you think he’ll really get me with an electric prod?’ Noct said. His voice was thick with sleep.

‘I doubt it,’ Ignis said, and rolled over to one side in the bed. A moment later Noct crawled in besides him. He kissed Ignis’ collarbone, and Ignis shuffled them to better fit on the narrow mattress.

‘I’m sorry,’ Noct said, curled on his side, back to Ignis’ chest, one of Ignis’ legs held tight between his own.

Ignis hushed him. ‘Don’t be,’ he said.

Noct shifted then settled back against Ignis. ‘I don’t want beans, either,’ he mumbled.

‘I’ll make you something else if they get you beans,’ Ignis said. He pulled Noct a little closer and pressed his face to the back of his neck, breathing in drowsily.

He didn’t get a reply. From where his hand was curled up against his throat, he could feel Noct’s heartbeat: slow, steady, at rest.

Ignis closed his eyes. Only moments later he, too, fell asleep.


End file.
